


Shed Some Light (On Me)

by Emmalyn



Series: Brainspace and Kinkspace [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Hermann, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Switching, Top Newt, these just keep getting filthier ahaha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmalyn/pseuds/Emmalyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Newt has been feeling unsure lately, what better way to reassure him of Hermann’s affections than for Hermann to let him take charge for once? To give Newt <em>his</em> trust? After all, their few encounters have either been equally balanced, or…instigated…by Hermann himself. It can’t hurt to try something a little different.</p><p>So instead of moving closer, Hermann lets himself sway sideways when Newt tugs on his jacket. “Do consider,” Hermann says, eyes innocently wide, “that perhaps I’d <em>like</em> to be persuaded.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shed Some Light (On Me)

**Author's Note:**

> For [pixiepunch](http://pixiepunch.tumblr.com/), who prompted #18 from [this list](http://emmalyn.tumblr.com/post/115598484008/new-improved-porny-prompt-list): "coming from ass play only," and an anon who prompted 19: "biting and/or marking." (Not beta-read; feel free to point out typos, etc.)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

If, one year prior, someone had asked Hermann Gottlieb about his greatest shortcoming, he knows exactly what he would have said. There would have been the typical platitudes about perfectionism, tempered by some truth about his inability to see the beauty of a thing for its flaws. And he would have justified this opinion by spouting something like,  _Better to be pleasantly surprised than consistently disappointed._

Hermann also knows how his few friends would have reacted to this proclamation. _Hermann, you sound like a bitter old man._ Or, _No wonder you’re so lonely._ And they would not have been wrong.

But no Drift is ever one-sided, and the Hermann of today once delved deep into his own psyche whilst barely keeping afloat in two others, and _survived_. As a result, he knows himself better now, well enough to acknowledge that his cynicism is not so much an innate character defect as a misplaced defense mechanism. It is something he is dealing with.

No, Hermann’s greatest weakness is underestimating people.

Case in point: Newton Geiszler. The man is infuriatingly blasé about so many important things. Social niceties fall by the wayside, general bodily awareness suffers, and injuries abound when his fervor is not properly contained or directed. His disaster-prone nature seems to spread to those in his immediate radius.

Newton Geiszler is, in short, a menace. Or, well, that was what Hermann had once thought.

"Hey, Herms, check this out!" The subject of Hermann’s musings is currently waving his arms about, brandishing a ratty book. He nearly thwacks a pedestrian in the face with the thing. Thank God the street is fairly deserted.

Alright, he perhaps still thinks that Newt is a _bit_ of a menace.

“Newton--” he starts.

“No, no, look, it’s that stupid textbook we had to read in training-- see?” He opens it to a particular page, and sure enough, there Hermann spots an irritatingly familiar mathematical error.

“I believe you’re right,” Hermann mutters, peering at it. “You had to read this idiotic thing for K-Science as well, then?”

Newt nods. “It was standard issue for the first few years. Until somebody showed Pentecost the section on Rangers.”

“Dear God.”

Wincing, Newt hides the awful book behind a few others at the stall. “Yeeeah.”

They leave the bookstore and meander down the street. Hermann’s glad he picked a nearby cafe for their lunch excursion, because Newt insists on pointing something out at every storefront. He limits himself to a couple of souvenirs -- because, as Hermann reminds him, they’ll be in England for a few months at least, and there will be plenty of other opportunities to shop -- and they somehow manage to snag a table before the lunch rush sets in.

After ordering, Newt props his elbows on the table. “So, this is kind of our first official date, huh?”

Under the table, Hermann feels a boot gently nudge his ankle. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but...yes, I suppose it is.”

“It only took us, what, two months?”

“Try over a decade,” Hermann says dryly, and Newt shakes his head.

“I mean since we started this whole...relationship thing,” he says.

“That sounds about right.” Hermann can’t help but wonder where Newt’s going with this.

Newt starts tapping on the table with one hand, then clears his throat. “Cool.”

“Newton, what’s this about?” He sees Newt swallow and frowns. “Is everything alright? Do you want to leave?”

“No!” Newt says emphatically. “That’s not-- I mean--” He shrugs, looking away. “Maybe it’s all the traveling or something, I dunno. But I was thinking.” The hand goes back to drumming its odd rhythm. “Aren’t you kinda sick of moving around all the time?”

Hermann gets the distinct feeling that he’s missing an important variable in this equation. “Ye-es,” he says cautiously.

“Cool. Yeah. Me too,” says Newt, a note of relief in his voice. “So, uh. You planning on staying-- around the school, then? Since you’re teaching?”

Glancing around at the small, unremarkable shopping area, then back to Newt, Hermann finally says, “I hadn’t really thought about it.” He’s _definitely_ missing something here.

“There’s housing for professors,” Newt says casually. “It’s pretty nice.”

“I think I’d rather have my own flat,” says Hermann, and then curses inwardly when Newt deflates. What did he say wrong?

“Yeah, no, that makes sense,” Newt says, staring at the table. “It-- it’ll be nice to have a place all to yourself now that everything’s over.” He gives a ghost of a laugh, then, and won’t meet Hermann’s eyes.

Wait a moment. “Newton, look at me.” Newt does, miserably. “I have not made _any_ plans yet. Are you trying to ask me something?”

Newt shakes his head. “Nah, man, you’d be way happier--”

Hermann puts one of his hands over Newt’s restlessly tapping one. “I’m happy right now,” he says quietly. “Please continue.”

“I, uh.” Looking down at their hands, Newt seems at a loss. His lips form a few words, but no sound comes out. Then he takes a deep breath. “Do-you-want-to-live-with-me?” he says in a rush.

So _that’s_ what this was about. Hermann smiles. “I think I might be open to the idea.”

“Seriously?” says Newt, sitting straighter. “You don’t think I’d drive you crazy, or-- or blow up the house or something?”

“We’d certainly need good renter’s insurance,” says Hermann amiably. “But as for the former, it’s not as though we haven’t shared living space for several months already.”

“Years, more like,” Newt grumbles, but he’s grinning, and oh, Hermann loves seeing that eager glint in his eye. “So...you mean it? You really want to-- find a place together, or whatever?”

He could tease, but that would be cruel. “Yes, Newt, that is exactly what I’m saying.”

“Awesome,” Newt says, and then their food arrives, and they’re happily diverted for the better part of an hour.

The trip back to their temporary quarters is hastened by Newt’s excitement. “So I was thinking three bedrooms would prolly be best, so we can have separate offices, or maybe a library or something.” He taps his chin. “And, oh man, Hermann, I didn’t even think about pets -- what do you think about pets?”

“I think we should get settled first, before thinking of that.”

Newt huffs. “Well, obviously, but what about in the future? You think you’d want some?” The question is asked with all the weight of one about wanting _children_ , instead of an animal, and Hermann is unexpectedly touched by Newt’s seriousness.

“Eventually, yes,” he says. “Then again, I’ve always been partial to creatures with more enthusiasm than forethought.” This is said with a sidelong glance at the man next to him, who is now hopping over cracks in the sidewalk.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Newt says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. “But I’m glad. I always wanted a terrarium when I was a kid.”

“No venomous animals,” Hermann says quickly. “For the sake of my sanity.”

“God no, I was thinking of a boa or something,” Newt laughs. “Or a couple of geckos.”

“That would be alright,” says Hermann. “I would also accept a dog or cat.”

“Oh _man_ , I’ve always wanted a French bulldog,” Newt says excitedly. “I could name it Kodachi, and dress it up in little sweater-vests when it gets cold, and--”

As his input is apparently no longer needed, Hermann simply nods and murmurs assent until they’ve reached their flat. Well, it’s theirs for the week, anyway. At the rate Newt’s going, it won’t be two days before they have a list of fifty new places to look at.

He fights a smile as he thinks about just how dedicated Newt is. To his research, to this new life of theirs, and now to them as a couple. It wasn’t very long ago that Hermann had -- shamefully -- assumed Newt’s interests to be only skin-deep; his flightiness had been an effective smokescreen for the secrets that lay beneath the surface.

And the biggest secret of all is how very deeply and all-consumingly Newt _loves_.

He thinks of this now, watching Newt putter around the kitchen, still wildly gesticulating as he works out plans for a future dog-house of some kind. (Or perhaps he’s talking about a new university building. It’s a bit difficult to tell at this point.) Relaxing, Hermann leans against the doorframe, and Newt looks over.

“Herms? You okay? You’ve got a funny look on your face.”

“I’m just fine.”

“Your leg’s not bothering you or anything?” Newt squints at him.

“No, Newton, I’m alright,” Hermann says as he moves over to where Newt’s standing. “In fact, today’s been a pretty good day, all told.”

“Oh? ... _Oh_.” Newt looks him up and down, leering as Hermann crowds him against the kitchen counter. “Can I offer to turn that ‘pretty good’ into a ‘really good’?”

Hermann shrugs nonchalantly. “I might need some convincing.”

“Uh-huh.” Newt hooks a finger under Hermann’s lapel. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re the one doing the convincing. Not that I _mind_ , mind you.” He waggles his eyebrows.

That gives Hermann an idea. If Newt has been feeling unsure lately -- and his nervousness at lunch lends credence to the idea -- what better way to reassure him of Hermann’s affections than for Hermann to let him take charge for once? To give Newt _his_ trust? After all, their few encounters have either been equally balanced, or...instigated...by Hermann himself. It can’t hurt to try something a little different.

So instead of moving closer, Hermann lets himself sway sideways when Newt tugs on his jacket. “But do consider,” Hermann says, eyes innocently wide, “that perhaps I’d _like_ to be persuaded.”

Newt swallows. “Is that right?” Another experimental yank brings Hermann closer. He’s near enough to count Newt’s freckles through the flush on his cheeks, and it feels like the air’s been sucked out of his lungs.

“Yes, please,” Hermann whispers, and Newt kisses him. Their lips are dry at first, but that hardly matters, as their tongues quickly slick the way. Newt nips at his lower lip and Hermann groans, leaning into the kiss. It’s easier than he’d expected to just -- let things happen. To let Newt drive the action. He really does trust the man with his life.

They’re both breathing heavily by the time Newt pulls back. “No wonder you like grabbing my tie so much,” Newt pants. “Wow.”

Hermann blinks. “Oh?”

“Yeah, ‘wow,’ like, ‘wow you’re a great kisser,’ dude, don’t get all self-conscious on me now.”

“I- I wasn’t--”

“And don’t you lie to me,” Newt says, but softens the words by sliding a hand up to cup Hermann’s jaw. “Just let me tell you how great you are, okay?”

Hermann’s face heats. “Alright,” he says slowly. “If that’s what you want.” He can do that, for today. Or at least he’ll damn well try; Newt deserves that much.

“It’s definitely what I want,” Newt says. He leans up to close the distance between them again, and several more minutes are lost to sweet, explorative kisses. The hand on Hermann’s jaw drifts down to caress the side of his neck, and Hermann shivers when Newt’s thumb strokes lightly across his Adam’s apple.

“You like that, huh?” Newt asks, smiling against his mouth.

“You know I do,” Hermann mutters. By this point he’s leaning hard on both his cane and Newt’s broad, warm chest, and trying his damndest not to grind his hips into him. This _giving up control_ thing is steadily becoming more challenging, no matter how easy Newt had made it look.

It becomes even _more_ difficult to control himself when Newt licks his lips. Slowly. “Just checking in,” he says. “Wanna make sure you’re having fun, you know.”

“And you call _me_ a bloody tease,” says Hermann sourly.

“Never said I _wasn’t_ one,” Newt says with a wink. And he does have a point, but there’s no way in hell Hermann’s going to acknowledge it. Instead, he leans in and kisses Newt, _hard_ , with teeth. Newt’s fist clenches in his lapel. “Alright, alright,” Newt laughs. “Let’s take this party to the bedroom.”

The sun is out in full force, streaming through the windows, so they can see perfectly well as they move through the house. The sheer curtains cast the room in a dreamy light. It is a glorious change from all those years spent living in windowless Shatterdome dormitories. Even recently, they’d hardly had time to spend outdoors. Not while giving speeches at conference after conference.

So Hermann takes his chance, sitting on the freshly-ironed bedclothes and basking in the sunlight. After a moment, Newt comes to sit behind him and presses a kiss behind his ear. “You’d have a better time absorbing sunlight without so many clothes on,” he says.

“Sneaky,” Hermann replies, but can’t argue. He’s noticed that Newt’s insecurities, while deep-seated, often fly in the face of imminent sexual contact -- or, more specifically, in the face Hermann’s obvious desire for him. Thus, Hermann has determined that he must show his interest frequently and unsubtly. (He regrets that he did not begin doing so earlier, but that cannot be helped now. One can only look to the future. And doing... _this_...more often is, well. It’s certainly no great hardship.)

“You sure you’re okay with me taking the reins for now?” Newt asks. He’s rubbing small circles on Hermann’s back, and Hermann leans into the contact.

“Oh, yes,” he says easily. The sunlight on his face and Newt’s soft touch combine to make him feel almost sleepy. Relaxed.

“Good,” Newt says, and Hermann can hear the smile in his voice. “‘Cause I have some ideas.”

That gets Hermann’s attention. He opens his eyes. When had he closed them? “Do tell.”

“It’s more fun to show you.” Newt’s hand stops rubbing his back, moving to the hem of his jumper and tugging upwards. “But you gotta be less dressed first.”

“Oh alright.” Hermann pretends to grumble as he helps Newt disrobe him. The snug jeans he’s begun wearing are a bit difficult to remove, especially after he’s been kissing Newt for several minutes, but they manage. Hermann’s glasses are gently placed on the nightstand, while Newt’s stay on his face, “To see you better,” he says.

Hermann feels exposed, lying naked in the sunlight, even though Newt is quickly throwing his own clothes off. And Hermann has his own insecurities, so it comes as a bit of a surprise when Newt returns to him and says, “You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

Hermann can’t help but chuckle self-deprecatingly. “‘Beautiful’ is a term for young women and floral arrangements, Newton.”

There’s a strange look on Newt’s face. “You said I could say whatever I wanted. Can’t take it back now,” he insists. “And it’s true, anyway. _I_ think so.”

A dismissive comment is on the tip of his tongue, but Hermann forces it down. He shifts uncomfortably and says nothing.

His efforts are rewarded when Newt’s brow clears. “Thanks,” he says quietly, and Hermann doesn’t ask what for. He tries not to fidget when Newt lies down beside him. “You still doing okay, Herms?”

“I’m fine,” Hermann says. In reality, he’s only about sixty-five percent sure of this fact, but the error margins are acceptable in circumstances like these, when Newt is nearby and radiating such comforting heat.

“Awesome,” says Newt, and leans in to kiss him. Hermann relaxes almost instantly. _This_ he can do.

He feels safe, protected, with Newt’s mouth slanting wet over his, Newt’s body pressing warm against his ribs. A broad hand strokes up Hermann’s chest, and he can’t help but arch into it. The hand sweeps up to his throat and back down again. Hermann tenses in expectation, already hard and desperate to be touched, but Newt stops just south of his belly button.

“Wha--?” Hermann pulls back. Newt is staring down at him, and the raw desire in his face is stunning. Pupils blown, lips red as sin, Newt looks about two seconds from jumping on Hermann and fucking him into the mattress.

The thought is not at _all_ off-putting.

“Wait, wait” Newt says, and Hermann huffs. “I know, babe, I just gotta ask-- how do you want to do this?”

“Er,” Hermann says eloquently. “I. That is, would you-- to me--” His tongue tangles around the words.

“You want me to fuck you?” Newt asks. His voice is rougher than usual, and Hermann thrills at the thought that _he_ did this, that Newt is this excited just thinking about _him_. “You want me to work you open nice and slow, then pound you into the bed, hard and fast?”

Hermann nods frantically. He doesn’t trust his voice at this point.

A wicked little grin curves Newt’s lips. “Come on, I wanna hear you say it.”

This is his “revenge” for the other night, Hermann realizes, trying not to squirm. But two can play at that game. “I want you to put your cock in me,” he says, low and intent, and he’s pleased to hear Newt’s breath catch. The man does love his dirty talk. “ _Now_ , if you please.”

“Oh, I will,” Newt says, pinching Hermann’s stomach playfully. “But at my own pace, oh pushy one. You’re gonna _beg_ for it first.”

“So far you’re all talk, Geiszler,” Hermann retorts with a smile of his own. He can’t help provoking Newt. It’s too much _fun_.

Newt barks a laugh, and flips one leg over Hermann’s thighs so he’s straddling him. Bending down, he flicks his tongue over one nipple, and Hermann gasps. “All talk, my ass,” Newt mutters as he shifts to Hermann’s other nipple and teases it with his teeth. Hermann can’t help moaning loudly at the jolt of pleasure that shoots straight to his prick.

Then Newt moves again, up to Hermann’s neck, peppering little kisses along his shoulder as he goes. “I want to mark you,” Newt murmurs into his skin. “Can I give you a hickey? Or, like, twelve?”

Hermann stares. For some reason, the idea of Newt marking him is suddenly irresistibly hot. The thought would be embarrassing if he weren’t so turned on, but right now he wants to feel the reminders that he belongs to Newt, and -- God -- he wants people to _see_ them, to know that he and Newt are together. “Yes, yes, do it,” he says.

Newt practically growls, latching onto a spot between his throat and clavicle and sucking _hard_ , hard enough to sting, but it’s a good kind of hurt. He hisses as Newt does it again and again, until his skin burns with little bruises shaped like Newt’s lips.

Finally, Newt leans back to inspect his handiwork. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he says reverently. “And you’re so pale, I’ll bet you’ll be seeing these for a _week_.”

“Please,” Hermann hisses. He can’t stand another minute of his colorful, beautiful Newt suspended above him, not touching, not even reaching for his own flushed cock. “Newt, _please_.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Newt says, moving to lie next to Hermann again. He pets Hermann’s side like he’s a skittish animal, and despite his inner grumbling at the implications, Hermann feels better. “I know you’ve done this before, and so have I, but it’s been a long time for both of us. I want to go slow, make it _good_ , okay baby?”

The pet name makes him flush with embarrassment and pleasure. “I know,” he says quietly. Because, intellectually, he does -- going quickly would only lead to harm, and that wouldn’t be fun for either of them. But still, he _wants_.

Newt flashes him a crooked grin. “I know you know.” Hermann rolls his eyes, but smiles reluctantly as Newt kisses the corner of his mouth. “Okay then. Good,” he says, and nimbly hops over Hermann’s knee. Propping a pillow under his bad hip, Newt gently spreads Hermann’s legs wide, and kneels down between them. “Still okay?”

“Yes,” Hermann breathes. He feels vulnerable, spread open like this, and he has to force himself not to try to squeeze his legs closed again.

“You look so good like this, babe,” says Newt, skimming both hands along his inner thighs. Hermann makes a choked-off cry when one hand slips down and back, nudging up just behind his balls and rubbing gently. “Feel good?”

It feels so damn good that Hermann can only whine for _more_. Newt seems to get the hint, letting one finger trail further back until Hermann can feel him pressing down, and _in_ , ever so slightly, but it’s not enough. “Come _on_ ,” Hermann pleads.

“Ah, shit,” Newt says suddenly, hopping off the bed. He roots around in one of their bags for a moment, Hermann looking on in confusion, until he finds what he was looking for -- ah, condoms and lubricant. Then he’s back on the bed and kneeling between Hermann’s legs again in a flash. “Sorry about that,” Newt says ruefully. He pops the lube open and squirts some on his fingers.

“Er, that’s quite alright,” Hermann says, with remarkable aplomb given the circumstances. It’s hard to hold still while Newt painstakingly spreads the lube onto his hand, but finally he feels a cold finger slip past his tailbone.

Newt bends down so close that his breath ghosts wet over Hermann’s cock. “Ready?” he asks, and Hermann says, “Yes, yes, do it,” and then that finger is rubbing at his hole and pushing in past the first ring of muscle there. It burns a little, of course it does, but the pain is swallowed up by a wave of pleasure when Newt runs the flat of his tongue up Hermann’s cock.

He can’t help bucking up right into Newt’s face. “Sorry, sorry--” But Newt just chuckles and licks him again, wiggling his finger in deeper, making Hermann groan. He pulls back after a moment, and Hermann props his head up to see what’s the matter.

“You taste good,” says Newt, looking up, his lips shiny with spit and precome. The sight is enough to make Hermann feel dizzy. “Ready for more?”

“Yes, God yes,” Hermann says desperately. Newt obliges, barely glancing down as he slicks up two fingers and pushes inside. His eyes remain locked on Hermann’s as he slowly scissors his fingers open, deeper, wider. When they curl to rub at his prostate, Hermann can’t help moaning at the intense shock of _good, yes, there_.

Newt’s eyes darken at the sound. “Fuck, Hermann,” he says, “you’re killing me here.”

“Speak-- _ah_ \-- for yourself,” Hermann manages. “I’m not the one _teasing_.”

“I’ve got...plans,” says Newt, his intent gaze not wavering. Somehow Hermann feels even more exposed than before. He has the odd feeling that Newt is cataloguing all of his reactions, like some kind of _experiment_. The thought makes Hermann shudder.

“Good?” Newt asks, and Hermann nods. Two fingers become three, and soon Hermann’s sweating and panting at the stretch of it. Then Newt stills. “Herms, I wanna try something.” Taking one of Hermann’s hands in his clean one, Newt places it on top of his own head. “Grab me _hard_ if you want me to stop for a sec, or if something feels weird, okay?”

“Um.” Honestly, how is he expected to be coherent with three fingers still up his arse and those beautiful lips so close to his cock? Newt looks serious, though, so Hermann blinks to try to clear his head a little. “Yes, alright.” _Get on with it_ , he doesn’t say, because he is a mature adult. And also because he’s fairly certain Newt would just laugh and do what he wanted regardless. Infuriating man.

Newt waggles his eyebrows as though he can read Hermann’s mind. At this point, that wouldn’t even be surprising. What _is_ surprising is the speed at which Newt dips his head between Hermann’s legs, nosing behind his balls, making him twitch with eagerness. “Newt, what--” he gasps.

“Shhh,” Newt says, muffled. He lifts Hermann’s leg -- the one that’s not propped on a pillow -- and hooks it over his shoulder. The position is odd, but not uncomfortable, so despite his impatience, Hermann tries to hold still.

Suddenly Hermann feels something warm and wet against his perineum, and his body jerks at the strange sensation. But as Newt’s head moves under his hand, Hermann realizes that the wet thing is Newt’s _tongue_ , he’s _licking_ him, and now he’s moving back toward where his fingers are twisting and slowly thrusting and -- dear _God._

The whimper that he makes might be embarrassing if Hermann had two brain cells left to work with. As it is, well. Judging by Newt’s pleased hum, he’s perfectly happy to be rimming the hell out of Hermann, and that if nothing else banishes the last of Hermann’s lingering self-consciousness. He whines beseechingly.

Newt doesn’t respond, because his mouth is otherwise occupied, but he does speed up a bit. The flicks of his tongue alternate with the timing of his thrusts. Hermann can’t help the _ah!_ that escapes his lips as Newt’s thumb presses up above his hole, and there’s a little rasp of stubble where Newt’s face is resting on his thigh, and it’s _perfect_. “Newt, please, _fuck_ , I’m close--”

Then Newt’s tongue -- impossibly -- pushes _into_ him, along with those lovely fingers. And Hermann comes, spurting across his belly, arching and clenching all over as sparks of pleasure dance across his skin. Newt keeps thrusting and massaging at his prostate until Hermann can’t take it anymore and yanks at his soft hair.

Grinning cockily, Newt raises his head and wipes his mouth off on the back of one hand. “Wow, Hermann. You’re fucking _awesome_.” His words slur a little.

“S-speak for yourself,” Hermann says again. His heart beats a mad rhythm against his ribs as he tries to catch his breath.

“Oh,” Newt says, sitting up on his knees to nuzzle at Hermann’s come-spattered stomach, “I’m definitely speaking for myself. You’re amazing.”

Hermann is sure he’s blushing from head to toe. “No, I’m-- oh, stop that, you’re getting all messy.”

“Already messy, Herms.” Newt doesn’t stop nuzzling, but he does grab a few tissues to clean them up a bit. “Planning on getting a bit more messy before I’m done, too. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

The erection that is currently twitching hard and hot against Hermann’s leg belies the nonchalant tone. Hermann doesn’t buy it for a second. “You _are_ rather convincing,” he says thoughtfully.

“Seriously?” Newt squeaks. “Only ‘rather’? Damn, I gotta up my game.”

“Please do,” Hermann says. His lips may or may not twitch.

“Just wait.” Taking a deep breath, Newt shifts backwards onto his knees. Hermann tries not to wriggle about, though being spread wide open like this is almost unbearably arousing. And how can he be this ready for more after just having come? “Still want me to fuck you?” Newt asks.

“Yes, yes,” says Hermann, because he’d thought it was rather obvious, but he supposes that it’s never good to assume things, especially in bed. “I’m fine. Please.”

“Okay. Okay.” When Newt grabs his own cock and lubes it up with a few quick strokes, Hermann bites his lip to hold in his moan. “Hey, no,” Newt says, “you can be as loud as you want, remember? No next-door neighbors here.” And he’s panting too, smiling broadly and looking down at Hermann as though he’s good enough to eat, so Hermann supposes that he can make a little noise if Newt wants to hear it.

“A-alright,” he says as Newt rolls a condom on and lines himself up.

“You ready?”

Hermann snarls, “ _Yes_ , Newton, I’m ready, come _on_ , I-- _ah_!” He nearly shouts when Newt shoves into him, slowly but firmly. They’re both gasping by the time he’s fully seated.

“Fu-uck,” Newt hisses, holding still with an obvious effort, “ _fuck_ , you’re so tight, _god_.”

“Newton.”

“Fff-- Yeah?”

“ _Move_ ,” Hermann grits out, and thank God, Newt does. They move together slowly at first, Hermann feeling split open in the best way. Soon he’s raising his hips to meet Newt at each thrust.

“I’m not gonna last, Herms,” says Newt, rocking into him. “You’re too-- just, wow, I can’t--”

“Can you--?” Hermann tries to lift one of his legs to demonstrate. Newt gets the hint and hooks his forearm under Hermann’s knee.

“Like this?” Newt asks breathlessly.

“Yes, yes, oh _God_ ,” Hermann moans. “Harder, please--” Newt changes the angle of his hips, driving upward into him, and soon his cock is pounding Hermann’s prostate with every thrust.

“Fuck,” Newt says as Hermann’s jaw drops open and he gasps for air. “You’re so-- beautiful like this.”

The sweet words give Hermann an odd thrill, adding to the hot pleasure that jolts down his spine and out to his toes. All the sensation is-- well, it’s a bit overwhelming, but certainly _good_. Against all odds, he feels another orgasm building low in his belly. He quakes and holds on for dear life as Newt fucks him harder.

Letting out a long groan, Newt says, “Herms, oh, I’m gonna come, I’m-- can I--” He closes a hand around Hermann’s dripping cock.

“Yes-- _ah_ \-- I want you to-- _please_ \--” he whimpers, thrusting up into Newt’s grip. A tight squeeze, a few sharp thrusts, and Hermann’s vision whites out as he comes a second time, shaking and yelling as he clamps down on Newt’s cock. He vaguely hears Newt’s, “Hermann, oh god, _fuck_ ,” before his hips stutter and thrust _hard_ one last time into him.

Then Newt collapses half-onto Hermann, twitching with aftershocks. They stay joined for a few long moments. Newt’s the first to break the silence. “Wow,” he says. Hermann chuckles weakly.

“Agreed,” he rasps. Sweat and come are slick between their stomachs, but he can’t even find it in himself to care. Newt grabs a few tissues and swipes haphazardly at the mess.

“Huh. That’s...less helpful than I’d hoped,” he says wryly. “Can’t really blame me, though. ‘Cause that was...wow. I think my brain’s fried.”

Hermann mock-frowns. “I should hope not.” He brushes a strand of hair back from Newt’s forehead. “I would miss your wit.”

“Dude, I’m gonna remind you of this next time we’re arguing over academic shit,” Newt says, but his gaze is fond. “Should record it for posterity.” He bends down for a kiss, which Hermann returns eagerly.

“I’d rather you not record me now,” he retorts.

“Nah, no one gets to see you like this but me.” Newt smiles. “I think I’m getting sappy in my old age, but I’d like to be able to say that for a really long time.”

Hermann means to say something like, _I’d like to say the same_ , but it comes out, “I love you.”

“Love you too, gorgeous,” Newt replies, still gazing down at him. “God, I’m a lucky bastard.”

And Hermann’s not sure when it happened, but at some point Newt’s sweetness stopped surprising him so much. Instead, a warm glow of happiness follows his words. So it’s without cynicism or doubt that Hermann says in return, “I think I am, too,” and pulls Newt down for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Newt's idea about getting a French bulldog was directly inspired by [this adorable art](http://emmalyn.tumblr.com/post/116749547701/littlebluekaiju-korybing-sfe-and-i-have) by Kory Bing. :)
> 
> Come say hi (or send me more prompts) on [Tumblr](http://emmalyn.tumblr.com)!


End file.
